The Ultimate Slice of Life: Summer
by Shinashi
Summary: Life in the summer, for most teenagers, center around three things: having fun, a job, and love! Between a scandalous convict, McDonald's, and various activities including swimming and traveling there's nothing this AU summer fic won't cover! light Xover
1. Prologueish

**AN**: I'm in the middle of a crisis. In the middle of such troubles, I usually think and read crack. Now, I'm going to write it. Now that I have a super-cool job working on a farm, I can now easily make fun of my earlier job at McDonald's. And now that I am out of high school, I shall summarize those years in this fic.

This is comedy/romance. If you're looking for my usual vampire/sex stuff, you're not going to find it here. :D I'm actually glad to write something with a rating lower than M (though my stuff is actually a bit rougher for FF standards). Enjoy.

This will continue as long as the reviews do~ I write for fun yes. I don't publish for fun, though. And what I'm doing: transposing stuff from my journal to Microsoft Word, something which I have magically gotten on trial again .…. To FF, is publishing c:

**Warnings: ** Not the usual vampire sex stuff. If you have always liked slice-of-life sort of stuff (which I enjoy once in a while) mixed with usual anime crack. Or if you work at McDonald's… Or if you're still in high school… Or you like comedy and/or romance…. Or if you curious how my trip into light writing gets awry, please read AND review. And, by the way, still going to be sex, but there's more humor than anything~

**Summary**: I will be having chapter-by-chapter summaries. Here's the overall and chapter one: In this chapter, Milliardo jumps into his summer with higher hopes than…Well, last summer. He's got a new crewmate at his job that will make life Cloud Nine. Unfortunately, that new member captures the sights of his anti-social (which is remarkably different from antisocial, apparently) crew member, Chang Wufei. Plus, he tries to get his other friends hooked up with someone else before school starts again.

Prologue: Summer…Summer…Summertime! 

It was eight o' clock in the morning! It was the first day of summer! (Actually, summer vacation hadn't started officially, but for the first time in Milliardo's circle of friends he has made A's in all his classes for the second semester, exempting him from ALL EXAMS!) And so, summer has started for Milliardo Peacecraft, and he breathed the air of freedom with the eagerness of all his seventeen years could provide.

What's more: His parents went on a cruise! To the Bahamas! Sure they didn't take him but he had a whole three-story house to himself! (Not exactly either, his sister, one of his best friends, made three B's, and each of those three of six classes' exams was on different days, poor her. She would be leaving around twelve to get to her one o' clock exam).

But then he would be by himself. He could watch porn.

This idea made him excited.

Without headphones!

His pants were uncomfortable.

Really loudly!

_Calm down… It's only eight. Just a few more hours… Then it'll be that new European flick. Then it would be… would be…_ He could barely contain his head with all the options.

He looked at the clock once more; it was eight seventeen! My, how time went fast when you were doing absolutely nothing.

He practically skipped down the stairs, popping some Toaster Strudels in the toaster and made himself a glass of milk. A couple minutes later, he would consume both for a snack, and then would have gone to brush his teeth and wash his face and take a shower. By then, he would have worked off the energy made by the Strudels and milk to advance to the biggest bowl of cereal he could eat without throwing up. Ah, what a good life!

Relena came from upstairs, texting on her phone, and laughing at something one of her friends sent her. She took one look at her brother and her mouth dropped completely open. And then her cell phone went to the floor.

Milliardo was shocked and stood there like a deer in headlights.

"What?"

"What the hell are you still doing here?!"

"I-I…" he stuttered, "I don't have exams today?"

"Is that a question?"

"Is that the right answer?"

She huffed, her eyes going huge. "Why aren't you at work? Did you call? Whatever, you're going to get written up anyway." She brushed past him, peevish all of a sudden.

"What!? It's Sunday. I don't work until Monday."

As soon as he said the words, he abruptly realized that his sister was right. He did have work today.

She lifted her eyebrows, mouth wrapped around the opening of the milk. Neither she nor he ever cared much about germs. But they did try not to backwash.

"So you don't have exams on Sunday? Funny, I don't either."

He was already up the stairs, taking two of the twenty-three at a time, going three once so to be even once he got to the top, and charged into his room to speed on his uniform. "Do you remember what time I was supposed to be in today?!" he called downstairs.

"Eight," she spoke, already having made it up behind him. "And that was thirty-two minutes ago."

"It will be a miracle if I get by with only a write-up."

"How many have you had?"

"Two."

"Ah…. And three is, like, suspension, right?"

"I honestly…." He pulled his shirt over his shoulder, "…don't remember if it is suspension or termination."

Termination was being fired if you are one of those people, like Milliardo and Relena, who couldn't figure if termination really meant someone was going to die, or get fired. Don't be fooled by his A's, it was once-in-a-lifetime. And, by the way, will never happen again. Really.

"Let's hope it is only a write-up, and it is the second, and, if it is third, you only get suspension," she said, smiling.

"Wow, you're _helpful_."

"Glad to be of _service_."

"Whore."

"Neanderthal."

"Spell Neanderthal."

"Knee." Pause. "And" Pause. "Er." Pause. "Thall."

"You didn't even spell it."

"I-T." And she stuck out her tongue, as she always was able to get him- or anyone else- with that pull.

He was already running out the front door, down the dilapidated stone steps, when she came out waving his wallet. He thanked her, told her not to turn up the porn too loud, she told him he was jealous that he couldn't, he answered that yea, he was, and said good-bye.

The really bad thing about this whole thing was that he usually had to take the city bus to work, or he could drive the car, but he promised Relena that she could have it today. He didn't bring it up because he knew that she would give him the car and she would have to ride the bus home. That thought didn't bode well for him. The Johnson High School kids from the city over were already out of school, and they were bad kids that had nothing to do in Johnson and so came here to Sank. It was a sad day in history when teenagers from a city called Johnson (or Washington or High Top or Sun City) went to a city called Sank for fun.

Anyway, Milliardo Peacecraft was trekking it today. The city of Sank was pretty big for Rhode Island standards. Sixth largest city in the state. Population a little less than sixty-thousand. Sixty percent over the age of sixty with sixty years to go. But still, Milliardo smiled genially to all the old ladies who gave him (unwanted) appreciative looks. By the time he arrived at Micky Dees, it was nine-fifteen. He was going to hitchhike if this ever happened again.

Milliardo smiled at his dear friend of thousands of days, Trowa Barton, who was in his much-hated position of front counter. At first, when he set eyes on Milliardo, believing he was a customer, he snarled uncharacteristically, his usually emotionless face scrunched up in such obvious distaste often totally lost on the guest, that if they were to see, they would immediately turn back to their car and hop on over for the authentic Mexican food of Taco Bell _du jour. _

Instead, his face twitched into a small smile, and a small lift of his eyebrow.

"Forgot your hat and hairnet, Mr. Early Bird."

Milliardo's hands flew to his head and he sped through the swing doors to the free register so he could clock in. Suddenly filled with dread, he knew that he could totally be fired today- first, he came late, second, he arrived late without calling, third, he came without a hat, fourth- yes, this slip would come separate- he came without his hair net.

"And I guess the customers won't be messing up your name today."

Fifth, his nametag.

Dejectedly, Milliardo punched in his numbers only to see a pop up saying that he had already clocked in a few minutes before eight. He looked up at Trowa, who wasn't looking at him, but had one hand holding a hat proffered to him.

"Damn. Trowa, how can I repay you for this?"

"Whatever, this is for you taking the heat Friday."

He grimaced while Milliardo smiled at the memory. Friday, an irate customer, complaining of waiting two hours for sweet tea (No one there knew why he would wait that long for a drink, especially when he could come inside to get it) began to curse at Trowa. Well, this was how it went:

Trowa was again on front counter. He couldn't really complain since he's been on back cash for about two weeks and, though he was fucking good at it, other crew members began to complain of favoritism. Dekim Barton, one of managers, of no relation to Trowa, had not a single love for the poor-as-dirt Trowa Barton (or Duo Maxwell, at the moment grilling burgers, his least favorite spot) and moved Trowa to front counter. Though the customers complained of his lack of cheeriness, as opposed to Milliardo or Duo when they were on front counter (That was their favorite spot), Dekim kept him there.

The Tea customer, as they had already began calling him, came in. Red-eyed, red-faced, and frothy around the mouth.

"Manager," Heero Yuy immediately called. He was on grill then. That was his favorite spot. Though he was secluded in the sound of sizzles and gas, isolated in the middle of the store where most couldn't even see him, he seemed to know whatever was happening around the place.

"Where the fuck is my sweet tea?!" He stabbed a finger into the air, pointing at Trowa. "You sent me out there for two fucking hours to wait for tea and I haven't got it, yet, you hussy! No, you a boy, you a damn pussy!"

For the record, Trowa was on front counter all Friday. It was the presenter's, the person at the window where the food is handed out, job to send a person up to the door to wait for food that might not be ready yet, and they had the food ready for the car behind it. That Friday, Milliardo was presenter. So, Trowa wouldn't have even seen the Tea customer, much less held him for sweet tea.

Trowa continued working. He heard Tea alright, but he usually ignored an angry customer until a manager arrived, and then he or she would take care of it. Unfortunately, Heero Yuy's call for one fell on deaf ears. All the managers were having a meeting because a manager from another restaurant would be coming, and so they all were shut behind the almost soundproof doors to the meeting room. No one supervised the regular workers at this time. There were about ten crew workers that day, including Trowa's 'sister' Catherine Bloom, currently texting in the bathroom, Alex and Mueller, both taking advantage of being sent to the fridge to get salad mix, and Otto, washing dishes in the back, talking to himself like he usually did.

So the six actually working were Milliardo, Duo, Trowa, Heero, Quatre Winner doing absolutely horribly on the back register where you took orders and handled the money from previous orders at the same time, and Chang Wufei doing the ridiculously good job of getting the food together _by himself_. Almost nine at night. On a Friday. Freakin' monster. Milliardo presenting, Duo packing the food Wufei made and handing it to Milliardo, Heero grill, Quatre back cash, and Trowa by himself on front counter against Tea.

"So what you gone do, pussy?" the man goaded, still stabbing in the air.

Fortunately, or whatever, the restaurant was at a standstill then, but there was going to be a church group coming at nine, for some reason. Not to Shoney's, not to Denny's, or Ryan's (Are those places even named after real people for the apostrophe to be there?) but to McDonald's. Maybe they would have liked the Play Palace. Too bad it closed at seven.

"There's tea in that silver container over there. The one with sweet tea on it," answered Trowa calmly, still not looking at the customer.

The man now stabbed Trowa's chest. "You give it to me." Trowa stared blankly at it. Outside, to a stranger, he was really holding his calm. If Catherine was here she would have seen that every vein was about to pop and the man's head was soon to fly off. Luckily, the man put that finger away.

And Quatre had been sent to get the managers, only to be waved away irritably. The crew was to work this shit out alone.

Quatre came back, Heero came from grill, Wufei came from table, and Duo arranged the premade burgers- essentials like cheese and double cheese burgers and McChickens. Milliardo came over to diffuse the situation.

"Sorry for making you wait, sir. But, to be fair, you've only been out there for ten minutes, and the tea takes fifteen minutes to prepare."

"Shut the hell up! I know it was him! Now he better get me my tea before I start calling the supervisor."

The supervisor of this town was Septum. It would be a cold day in hell anyone would want to make him angry. Below freezing cold.

"I'll get him his tea, Mill'," Trowa said softly.

Milliardo nervously watched him get a large cup, fill it up with ice under the icy coffee machine, and then pour the sweet tea the kept in the fridge into the cup. He was smiling, rolling his eyes at Milliardo as he handed the cup over. Then it was super slow-motion.

Tea took a gulp of his drink, snarled angrily, Trowa tensed, and his tension actually aided the fact that he didn't move when Tea spit out into his face. Now the boy was looking straight at Tea with his maniacal grin.

Heero began pulling Trowa away. "Come, we'll go tell the managers."

"'M fine."

Of course, Trowa wasn't fine, just passive-aggressive. And he was playing out his plan to strike. They all knew that, but Heero continued trying to force him away.

"Tastes like piss," Tea said and, adding fuel to the fire, threw the rest of the tea onto  
Trowa.

His green eyes were half-lidded under his soaked bangs. Trowa could beat his ass, surely, but passive-aggressive people usually did things that weren't exactly guaranteed trouble. Like grabbing a melting milkshake someone had forgot about (he did) and throwing it onto the customer, finally cooled off and walking towards the exit, when his back was turned.

Tea arched his back and squawked as still ice-cold strawberry shake splashed all over his back, dropping down the opening of his slack plaid shirt.

In the split second it took for him to turn around in fury, Milliardo stood in front of Trowa. As he was usually the tallest of his friends after that brief moment Duo shot up like a beanstalk, and then everyone passed him up, it was natural for him to stand in front of him, his face easily contorted in anger, and his body in a stance that said 'I threw it, and I threw it well'.

At that moment, a few customers came in through the lobby doors, a car was ordering through Quatre's headset, and the managers had seen someone throw a milkshake at the customer's back but not who.

When Lucreiza Noin, Sally Po, Dekim Barton, Manager Walker (he's never offered another name), and Manager Bundt (his other name was too hard to pronounce) came up front, only the women knew what had probably happened. They knew Milliardo would have knocked the guy halfway to Tennessee. But they could tell by his face that that because Dekim hated Trowa so much, he was going to take the blame.

The Tea man fell for it as well. "Your worker threw a fucking shake at my back!" He now stabbed the air a little less forcefully at Milliardo.

"What happened?" Dekim demanded.

"This customer got upset at our tea and threw it at Trowa," Heero informed, already making it back to the grill. "He claims that Trowa had held him for tea two hours ago."

"Probably did," scoffed Dekim, taking Trowa by the shoulder. "I guess Mr. Peacecraft took it upon himself to help out someone who made a foolish mistake. Get him a free meal, Trowa. "

"I better get something for free for this," muttered Tea, watching Trowa fix him a Double Quarter Pounder, a large vanilla shake, and large fries, plus pies. He snatched it away from him with an almost pleased look on his face, as if the food was his whole objective the entire time, and left.

"I'm sorry to say that I will have to punish you, Mr. Peacecraft. Fortunately, this was, I guess, an extreme circumstance that has propelled your moral values, and I will let you off with a write-up." He turned to Trowa. "Make sure this is the last time this happens- Look at the times! How do you have two hundred seconds on the clock! Get the woman her food!"

And that was how Milliardo got his third write-up. His first two were for being late, but the first was so far into his early days two years ago that no one remembered.

"No problem," Milliardo finally said, after following the whole fiasco in his head. "Dekim would have been only too glad to fire you."

"True. Ready for today?"

"Yea. You know it always feels fast on eight-to-four days. And there are more of the older workers here. Where are Dekim and Noin?"

"In the back. The _new manager_ is coming today."

"What's that for?" Trowa handed him a scrunchie; Milliardo scrunched up his face but put his hair in a bun anyway.

"Your hair," Trowa answered, in an obvious ploy to be facetious.

Milliardo snickered. "You know what I mean. What do you mean by '_new manager_'?"

"You know him?"

"If he's from Sank, duh, I do. Anybody cool?"

Duo came from the grill, a bit shiny around the forehead. "Hey, Tro'. Noin said go fix some pies. Hi, Mill'. Got here extra early today, huh? You're supposed to have had the lobby and bathrooms all clean and made salads. But I got Otto to do everything 'till ya' got here." Duo grinned slyly when Trowa gave him some sort of gesture as he left to heat the pies. "_New manager_ coming, dude."

Milliardo huffed. "Not you, too. Who is he?"

"Someone you know~"

"Got that. Now who the hell is he?"

"Left for awhile two years ago..."

"Why?" Milliardo asked exasperatedly.

Duo made his way back to the grill, calling out behind him, "Coming in at ten…"

Resignedly, Milliardo went to the back office (not the meeting/break room). It had no door, but walled in by three sides the computers showing the camera angles, the managers' stuff, the safe, and the computer, what the hiring manager- Dekim- and the supervisor- Septum- used to hire and schedule workers. This was the back. The room was the meeting/break room. Inside was Dekim typing away on his computer while Noin counted money to arrange in the registers. She gave him a knowing look.

Milliardo smiled. "What would you like for me to do today?"

"Get a register, you slacker. You're on front counter."

"I love you, Noin."

"Whatever. But…" She shook her finger in the air, smiling. "You're going to love the _new manager_."

"Does this guy have a name or are we calling him Manager Manager?"

"You'll see when he comes. You got a customer up front."

Narrowing his eyes, Milliardo did as he was told, catching Duo's grin, the other people there were the old people he didn't really know well. They usually had mornings, and he usually had afternoon-nights, as if these old guys had anything to do on their afternoon-nights.

He went up with Noin as she opened the register on the right of Trowa, back from putting down (as in putting pies down on the cookie sheets) pies.

"There's some trays ready to be wiped and lined over there, and the Play Palace opens in half an hour," she said. "And so is the _new manager_."

"I hate him already," muttered Milliardo.

Of course, if he actually knew who was coming, he would never have said that.


	2. Not Enough Ketchup

**Character Notes: **

**_Milliardo: _**_As far as AUs go where I'm a teenager, I believe I like least the present time. I always end up a pansy._

_**Reviews!**_

**Seer Vixion: ****And we meet again! Panera the bread place, eh? A lot of sophisticated people eat there. It would be nice. BTW, all the scenarios you see on television about most fast food restaurants are probably true. And of course it's Treize. XD**

**Cool: ****Oh! Sorry. Pairings are the usual 1x2/2x1, 3x4 vice versa, and 13x6x5 (6 and 5 are interchangeable). **

_**Thank you very much for reviewing~**_

**Summary**: Milliardo finally gets to meet the new manager, and he is more than he would have ever dreamed! Now, with his feelings up in a whirlwind, he has to endure working with his renewed love and his friends' constant teasing. (This actually covers the next chapter as well. This turned out longer than planned.

Chapter 1: Not Enough Ketchup

Milliardo served the woman and her two kids (the general demographic at this time on this day) their two happy meals and double cheeseburger meal. The kids had repeatedly asked for ice-cream, but the mother had completely ignored them until they quieted, receiving their meals in silence. Trowa came back soon afterwards and began to line trays with him. This task consisted of drying off the trays, spraying them with antibacterial spray, wiping them off again, and then putting on the liners that weren't nearly as funny as Burger King's liners. At the moment, McDonald's was totally promoting their heart-attacks, or their Quarter and Double Quarter Pounders (that's half a pound, by the way).

"Why are they promoting these things when the people are already here?" Trowa said, dryly.

Milliardo laughed. "Why are they advertising anything when the people are already here?"

"Trowa!" Duo, from behind them, screamed desperately. "Get me off the grill! Beg Dekim to get back here. It's so hot… Please, I'll do anything." His head was poked between the gap made by the fridge and the milkshake/ice-cream machine.

"Would love to help, but Dekim got me stuck here for a while. He told me to stop asking him, like, the first day."

Duo made a disgruntled noise. He hated the heat and seclusion by grill; he didn't have supersonic hearing like Heero did. Plus, he was always burning himself and getting the meat stuck on the grill, or dropping the trays that hold the meat, or pushing the trays of meat into a heating row that already held a tray, knocking them all down to the floor. Duo learned a bit of Chinese from Wufei because of the frequency of these mishaps (The other side of the heating row faced table). Didn't know if he could actually speak them to another Chinese without a swift kick to the face.

"Mill-"

"Hell no." Milliardo really believed he would take a hit (or bullet, or car, or harpoon) for Duo; take the hot-as-hell grill and the susceptibility to burns and popping grease? Not likely. And he hated his hair in a ponytail.

"How am I supposed to study after this sucky day at work?" mumbled Duo. Nobody was asking for any meat, so he wasn't making any.

"You still have another day. Maybe it will be better tomorrow."

Duo had two exams, on the last day of Thursday. He and Milliardo had studied hard this semester to get as many A's as possible, but that just wasn't possible for Duo in math or science. They would have worked hard with Trowa, Heero, and Quatre, but the former was just too lazy and had four exams over the next two days, the second procrastinated to the point of illness (and had to take all his exams), and the latter was going through some therapy for his special 'mental disease'. And that was a long story. So he had to take all his exams, as his parents would not have picked him up early or dropped him off late otherwise. Without parents' permission, you couldn't leave early or arrive late for exams you were exempt from.

Quatre had gently asked how many Wufei had to take, and the boy had answered, "None. But it seems sort of silly to leave a class without a thorough test to make sure you have mastered all the skills you've learned."

"So you're going to take them anyway?" Quatre had asked.

"Yes."

And so Chang Wufei was taking all his exams, though he was exempt from them. So they wouldn't see Quatre, Wufei, or Heero until Friday. And, after this day, Trowa wouldn't be back until Friday. Thursday, Milliardo would work alone. Or so he thought, cleaning and lining the trays with the papers displaying the seven-hundred plus calories of Pounders. Then he heard a sudden hiss.

It was Duo, to Trowa. Milliardo looked at the both of them quizzically.

"He's here, a bit early," Trowa told him, smiling. Not his usual small smile. He's was greatly pleased by something and had a Duo-like grin spreading over the lover half of his face.

"The manager," added Duo.

Milliardo was run dry over the manager thing, and so looked outside with utter skepticism to see the new man in his dark blue shirt and tie (all managers wore ties), not wearing a hat (managers weren't required to wear hats, as long as their hair was kept short or in a bun), and carrying himself with the air of a businessman (most of the managers looked as if they needed to make as much money as possible).

The blond dropped to the floor, face flushed. Trowa followed him in a less drastic manner, still smiling. And slinking around the opening to front, Duo came; they both were smiling.

Milliardo could hardly breathe. "Why didn't you guys tell me?!" he whispered harshly.

"Because we knew you would freak. Like now. But at least you only have a few minutes," Duo said, smiling.

They heard the door open, and several steps traveled through the floor to them. They were sure steps, heel-toe, heel-toe. Treize had told him that once, that you could tell a confident person by their steps. Even the richest, prettiest girl could actually have low self-confidence, and you can tell by her feet landing flat on the ground. Confident people will take their time, even in walking.

And that was who he was: Treize Kushrenada. Milliardo had met him in fifth grade, Treize in eighth. Treize had just moved from Germany, was half German, half Greek (He identified himself as such, but was truly many more races, including Irish, Russian, and Polish). He spoke perfect English but had all the mannerisms of a foreigner, kissing anyone and everyone on both cheeks as greetings, along with hugs, laughing loudly, getting angry over smalls customs lost on most people, being ridiculously good at soccer (or Fuβball, or fussball, meaning football), and was so popular with girls of all faces that fathers actually feared for their sons.

One of those fathers couldn't care less. Matter-of-fact, he encouraged Milliardo to follow his emotions in the best manner possible. He was one of those men who believed that hindering a child too much would make the child stressed and unhappy; but letting them live too freely would make them criminals. He and his wife owned a small designer company for linens, a little line for baby clothes, and some antiques. Selling a large cherry oak bed carved to look like an enormous rose bush to the Kushrenada family had them into a party, where Milliardo met Treize for the first time. Of course, it just wasn't the furniture; the Kushrenadas believed the Peacecrafts had taste, style, class, and a wonderful set of children. That weren't uptight upper middle class people either.

And neither was the party.

Milliardo thought it would be boring, like on television, but quickly changed his mind when his father didn't steer him away from the tables of beer, just telling him to dilute his drinks with water so he won't get too drunk.

He didn't like the beer, but a young Kushrenada cousin gave him Sprite and vodka mixed with water, and that was a lot better. There was a lot of talking and drinking and laughing, and he did the same with his peers, and they taught each other curse words of their original language and tried the strongest vodka (Milliardo would later regret it).

Treize saw the buzzed blond first and it was one-sided lust at first sight (He didn't know, with Milliardo being five feet at the time, that he was only twelve). As Milliardo, getting drunk, ran his mouth off a hundred miles per hour about his short life till then, it quickly grew into love, strong, young love. Later, he would tell his mom about the Peacecraft beauty, and she would chide him, tell him his age, and then persuade him to wait until he's at least fourteen, when most young people realize that all the stereotypes of teenage life was a big bust, and it was a much bigger deal when you came across sex at whatever age.

By the time Milliardo reached that grand age, he was in eighth grade, and Treize had experienced enough rejections and hatred to convince him that confessing his love would have to wait when the boy's entire life couldn't be shattered by everyone else, besides the fact that he had met Duo and Trowa in seventh grade.

By then, Milliardo was so deeply in love with Treize, the only one who didn't realize it was Treize, who was pushing his feelings aside, and Treize's second cousin twice removed, and that was because she was only four months. Though Milliardo came off, to most people, as a young man of extreme confidence, almost to the point of arrogance, love wasn't one of his strong points. Love made him spineless, plus, Treize was drowning his true feelings in multiple lovers.

And that's why the blond cowered underneath the counter, watching Treize swiftly make his way to the back when Noin called him. She had seen him walk in, and Milliardo faint, or at least that was what it seemed like to her. Probably untrue that that happened, Milliardo wasn't _that_ much of a sissy. She hoped he would get up soon. Dekim would have a couple of missions for Treize in order for him to be introduced to the whole McDonald's on Sank's Riverside Boulevard. And those missions would last until Friday. Unfortunately, Treize and Dekim passed the three shirking their abilities without a second glance.

Dekim called, just as they were heading out the door, "Noin! Find Trowa and Mr. Peacecraft! They aren't watching front counter!"

And Milliardo heard Treize say in a surprised tone, "Milliard?"

He barely passed his head over the countertop to see Treize getting into the passenger seat of Dekim's car.

"You idiot."

Noin was behind him, arms crossed, shaking her head.

"He won't be back until Friday."

Milliardo grunted, regret filling him. "I was nervous."

"Ah."

"Are you sure he won't be back until Friday?"

"Yes," Noin assured, rolling his eyes. "And I made the effort not to tell that you worked here, too."

"You…You know I like him?"

"Milliardo, your great-aunt knows you like him."

"My great-aunt has been in a coma for twelve years."

"Exactly. Got a customer."

Milliardo gave Trowa a wounded look. He only said, "Well, there's Friday. I think any teenager who doesn't have school works two to ten that day." But Treize was twenty.

But Milliardo wasn't that horribly off. He actually liked the idea of anxiously awaiting Treize for three days before actually having to meet him. Plus, even if Treize won't have the same shift as him, he was bound to work. The first Friday after school is over was always the busiest, and that's an understatement. A decade or so ago, some senior class of both a local college and high school decided to make it a tradition to go to McDonald's after the schools were out. Soon, the family of the students came with. And then it spread to the oldest people at the local nursing homes. Then to the richest people of Sank.

McDonald's had to open three more stores in Sank alone.

These fears of such work ahead of him diffused some of his anxiety on meeting Treize again. But it helped to remember his last words after Dekim spoke.

_Milliard?_

It sounded surprised and happy at the same time. There were few other Peacecrafts in the world, and Treize has only heard of the ones in Sank.

Of course Treize would be glad to see him; they were best friends after all.

One would wonder why they haven't stayed in touch for two years. To make a long, often exaggerated story short, as a rich family, the Kushrenadas were often targeted for various scandals, most which the public discarded. One which they did not was when a young female teacher 'confessed' to the police that Treize had raped her and got her pregnant.

It would not have seemed believable but (And Milliardo was reviewing all this and his entire life from Treize on with Relena when he got home that evening, and over the course of the next few days) Treize had already established himself as a rake for both sexes of the age range between eighteen and thirty-six (for females, mostly), and the woman had a very compelling case. She 'admitted' they had been going out, and several of Treize's 'friends' said that, yes, they were hanging out quite often and that Treize often spoke of them almost having sex. When she finally realized how 'wrong' she was, she attempted to break it off only to have Treize become unstable and rape her. The officer who was first contacted by her and was the leader of the case spoke confidently that 'boys like Treize' often believed they can have whatever lover they wanted and were subconsciously unable to accept rejections.

Then several more women 'confessed' of Treize's violent acquisitions and a few men, to spruce up the action.

Of course, the cases turned out to be complete bologna after awhile, but the talk ruined the Kushrenada name. Treize graduated, his name booed out on stage, and they left. When the press found out, there were more confessions, and the police came to Milliardo, who had no idea where his love was and even took a lie detector test to prove it.

And that was two whole years ago.

And now… And now… And now…!

"Holy crap, it's Friday."

That's what Milliardo said to himself as soon as he woke up that morning. He had work at two (and so did every other teenager that worked at McDonalds, and so did Treize, Noin, Sally and Dekim) until ten. It was going to be the hardest time of his entire year.

Then there was Treize.

"Make sure you breathe," Relena was telling him several hours later as he put on his name tag. She gave him his hair tie and hairnet, then his hat and shoes. He was falling apart at the hinges, he really was.

"I got it. I'm not nervous anymore."

"Your lies are about as good as your taste in books."

"Leave the Bourne Supremacy alone."

"Milliardo, make sure you put in a good word for me. I'm thinking about applying in July. After, you know, I actually have a life during the summer. Or maybe all you have to do is talk to Treize." She winked lecherously, and that only made him more nervous.

"Do you think he even still likes me?"

"Well…" Relena was looking outside the window, eyebrows raised skeptically.

Milliardo deflated. "You don't do you? He's twenty now and I'm still not consenting age. It'd be dumb if he doesn't have his own girlfriend, or boyfriend, by now. They're together."

"Quite the opposite, big brother."

"What's with the face then?"

She stuck out her tongue, and then the doorbell rang.

"Who is it?" Milliardo asked, but Relena told him to have a good day at work and ran upstairs.

From the door came his muffled voice, "It's me."

_Who the hell is me? _Milliardo thought, still opening the door (Don't do this at home kids. If what sounds like an adult says something like this, he's not your kind of adult).

To actually almost match him eye-to-eye was the biggest surprise. Dark blue eyes.

"Hello, Milliard." With remarkable restraint, Milliardo was able to stand when Treize grabbed his face and kissed both his cheeks, nicely close to his lips, and gave him a large warm hug, squeezing around under his ribs and splaying his hands over his back. Treize smelled of light cologne and a natural scent exuding the essence of man.

"Eh..." That would be translated as _ohmygawdTreizehowareyou!?_

Treize looked him up and down, and Milliardo would forever believe that Treize was actually checking him out (Don't worry. Treize hadn't lost his feelings, so, yes, he was totally checking him out) "You've shot up. What are you, five eight, nine?"

"Te… Ten… Ten! I'm five-ten Tre-… Um, Mr. Kushrenada."

"Oh, there's no need for that. There's only three years between us and aren't we still best to each others' hearts?"

Milliardo thought he was going to say best friends, but it was just like Treize to say something expected like 'to each others' hearts'.

But it would have been easier to answer to best friends. To each others' hearts? Was that a confession?

In his McDonald's uniform? Milliardo hoped not. Today it was a purple shirt with a black tie.

"Why are you here?" _Man, not a 'how ya' doing' or anything._

Treize dropped his arms to around his hips, closing the door behind them and pulling him to his car, smiling all the while, a sultry grin that made Milliardo's legs feel watery. But it was all in his head, all in his head, he had to remember that. And to breathe, can't forget that either.

"I'm taking you to work, since we both work today."

"Oh. Thanks."

Somewhere inside Milliardo was a beast telling him to hug and kiss Treize. Though he kept it at bay with a small chair of resistance and a whip of civility, his heart beat unsteadily with happiness.

"You're quiet. Aren't you happy to see me? It's been two whole years."

The Ringmaster of Reason temporarily let down his guard. "I do!" Milliardo shouted. "I mean, I am. I'm very excited, just surprised. Happy and surprised, and excited… I missed you, Treize."

A tiny blush rose onto Treize's sharp features, eyes narrowed, and the Ringmaster began pushing the beast and scolding him at the same time. His punishment was to look down at his feet while he seated himself in Treize's sleek black Charger.

A shock ran through him when Treize took his hand.

He looked up slowly, catching dark eyes with his crystal blue. It was direct, a sharply aimed stare. It meant something.

But Milliardo built his composure to look back with steady eyes.

"I…" Treize licked his lips, contemplating, "I've missed you, too, love."

As the composure crumbled into a million pieces, Milliardo let a dumb look spread gladly on his face.


	3. Not Enough Mustard

**Character Notes: **

**_Duo: Wow, I'm Milliardo's best friend. I don't think I even said his real name in the series. Gotta love AU's, huh? _**

**Reviews: **

**Seer Vixion: **Ah. XD Thanks. This is why this is crack fic. There's more OOC, but I'm not too into the ridiculously OOC obviously Mary Sue type of stuff, haha. Oh, yea. I got a sandwich and some amazing.. mango tea…. I think… Sooooo Good. And so worth it since I didn't pay for it.

Not Enough Mustard

After a drive of comfortable, fluffy silence, Milliardo realized that he could breathe without conscious effort, and then they arrived at McDonald's, about fifteen minutes early. Treize had hardly pushed his seat back to relax before Milliardo's friends hustled around their car. It was a tight squeeze.

If you didn't count the nearby ambulance and three police cars or the vans and buses that had held schools, or any employee cars, the parking lot would still be full. The drive-through was wrapped around, which meant that there was a short difference between the end of the drive-through line at the ordering marquee and the beginning at the presenter window. And there _still_ were cars trying to get in. All the parking spots in the surrounding area were filled, and some cars were on the grass. People, mostly young people, were waiting outside, smoking, playing handheld games, talking, or listening to IPods.

Treize smiled at Milliardo, and he could only smile back. They exited the car; the German began his project of hugging everyone to death and inquiring about their lives in his absence, but, noticeably, no kisses to anyone's cheek.

People were starting to stare. Then they began to squint. They began to recognize. And they began to talk. The local college students were talking the most; most of them had told their family members at graduation to boo Treize. It had worked ridiculously well for a senior prank.

Treize held Quatre and Heero together for a bit. He scrutinized their pretty, boyish faces. "Haven't seen you two before. Are you here to complement Trowa and Duo?"

"If you are asking if we are going out, then no," Heero answered, wiggling out of Treize's traveling hands. He had heard recently from the rumors that Treize Kushrenada was coming back; he himself had only seen the guy on the news, a present-time Tim Bundy. Up close, he could believe the lady that he would have been overbearing. But Heero didn't mind it. Not from someone that Milliardo, of all people, blushed around.

"_Oh_, well, still young. Are any of you lookin-"

"Hey!"

Treize looked up, a suddenly cold front moving around them. They could all feel this strange frozen anger. Letting go of Quatre, he addressed Mueller, "Yes, Mueller, is it?"

The tall recently-graduated blond was surprised the man already knew his name, and he was scared by the icy glare. However, he was chosen from his group as friends as the great asker of all things interesting. And Treize Kushrenada in Sank, Rhode Island, was very interesting indeed. "Hey, are you Treize? Treize Kushrenada?"

"_Hello. _And yes, I am Treize Kushrenada."

"U-u-h…" The man had narrowed his eyes and pressed out a darker demeanor. A nervous chill ran down his back and he began to back up. "Hi… I'm Mueller."

"I know who you are." Treize suddenly brightened. "I hope we work well together. Do you have anything more?"

Mueller had another important question, but his confidence was leaving him quite fast as Treize's cheery air started to wilt again. But he wasn't afraid of the underclassmen standing around him. He decided to focus his attention on Quatre, the little fag who missed school to go to a Christian hospital 'for boys with deviant sexual habits'. It gave him a sort of boost.

"My friends and I wanted to know if you were really gay."

Treize sighed. This was actually a relief. If he was going to have to go through the whole rape mess again, he would have to strangle the kid. Mueller better be glad that Milliardo had gathered more ravishing friends. And he hoped the Asian man suddenly glaring daggers at Mueller's back was also one of his friends.

The gorgeous young thing had his hair down to his shoulder and was wearing traditional Asian garb; Treize would have guessed Chinese, but he couldn't really tell, though most Asians were annoyed when he couldn't tell the difference even by their faces. His robes were dark, shiny silk green with golden trims in the shape of multiple dragons. Even his tiny feet were subtly hidden beneath boots and green slippers. How did he get that to look so stylish? Treize truly wanted to know.

"I'm bisexual," he said finally, looking at the less attractive Mueller.

"So you're half gay?"

_This boy must be mentally retarded_.

But the Asian boy spoke up for him, "Are you an idiot? You don't ask people such personal questions unless you're a close acquaintance."

"He didn't mind!" Mueller yelled. "Mind your own damn business."

"Um, for the record, I _do _mind," Treize said.

Mueller ignored him. "Why you look like that today? You have to wear a _uniform_ to work. Not some kimono."

"Kimono is Japanese. I'm Chinese. Anyway, I have received permission already to wear this because it is my eighteenth birthday, according to the traditions of my family."

"Well, this is Amer-"

The boy turned away midsentence to Treize. He bowed deeply, though his jaw was angrily set. "I'm sorry to intrude upon your conversation."

The older man realized that he was bound to lose a great advantage of standing affections with this young man if he let him go now. (From this, one would realize that he has not lost his flirtatious nature that had fueled the lies that drove him from Sank in the first place.)

Anyway.

"Nonsense!" He sped in front of the young man. "I'm surprised I shared even two words with this… interesting young man. You must be Chang Wufei." He thought maybe he could respect Wufei's probably more conservative wish of private space, but he couldn't help holding the small, muscular body close before giving him kisses on both cheeks. He didn't regret it, the boy had a blush. As an afterthought, he swerved the boy around, smiling cheerily while indirectly catching Milliardo's jealous expression.

Trowa shared a look with Duo. Both knew that Treize did the kiss thing just to get Milliardo's attention and may or may not be attracted to Wufei himself. Probably. Wufei was cute.

Mueller, surprisingly, still wasn't finished. "Uh, Mr. Kush… Kewsh..."

"Look at the time!" Treize interrupted, arm still hung around Wufei, who was rapidly figuring that maybe he should have left this whole matter alone. "We have less than two minutes to clock in, and I doubt anybody on duty would be staying even the least amount of time over their schedule."

He grabbed Milliardo, the boy feeling a bit stiff now, and led the group into the overcrowded McDonald's.

Treize clocked them in as they went to Dekim to get their instructions of positions.

Obviously, Dekim was planning on having all of them fired on this extremely busy day.

"What?!" Milliardo nearly screamed, surprising Treize. Beside him, both Noin and Sally's mouths dropped in shock. Noin narrowed his eyes into slits.

Even Wufei was surprised at his position. "You can't be serious, sir."

"Like hell I am," muttered Trowa too low for Dekim to hear.

"You better pick something else," Duo ordered. "Not today, not with this many people."

Heero glared, his arms crossed and his body unmoving. Quatre nervously looked at Dekim, then the other managers, then back again.

Treize came up, looking at all the disgruntled faces. Behind him, Mueller and Alex clocked in. Dekim called to them to clean as people come and go, check the bathrooms frequently, and bake the pies or make parfaits, whatever's needed.

"What's the problem? What are everyone's positions?"

Dekim was smiling gruesomely. "Mr. Winner is back cash. Trowa front counter. Duo on the first grill, Mr. Peacecraft second. Heero present window. And Wufei will run for Trowa."

Running is the act of gathering food into bags or unto trays, for front counter. There is a runner for drive thru, and that place has first dibs on food. It is quite a annoying project to run for front counter, for the food takes a long time to arrive from table since they are often more focused on drive thru (and the runner for drive thru often takes the food for front counter with the excuse that drive thru always comes before front counter). Since food arrival is so random, Wufei would be left waiting and receiving some of the brunt of the customers' impatience.

Thus, this is Wufei's least favorite position. And Heero hated having to smile to the people in drive thru, and giving them food, and being in charge of time- the ticker which clocked how much time a car stayed in drive thru. Ideally, McDonald's enjoyed fifteen seconds. Right now, it was fifty-five .Then he will have to top sodas while making sure the customers had EVERYTHING they wanted, including extra ketchup, salt, barbecue sauce, sweet-and-sour sour, honey mustard, straws, napkins, juices, milks, nonfat iced mochas and just so much shit to deal with if they don't have enough or it's too cold or there's something missing or he's not fucking smiling.

A vein was popping in his head. At least he actually knew his job. Quatre had no idea how to deal with back register. Today he'll be so overwhelmed he might actually curse out a customer. Again. Duo and Milliardo were fingering their hair and staring at the middle-aged man still on grill, watching them impatiently. He was working off the clock. Heero hoped that nobody ordered tea with Trowa on the register.

"OK. Let's get going!"

Treize didn't get it. Quickly, he had to brace himself for the multitude of angry looks aimed in his direction. He remembered that this was a different store, a much younger store than the one he had worked at, in a wee bit of a bigger town. Maybe they hated Dekim as much as he did!

"What would be better?" he asked carefully. They had short time; Dekim was gone letting off first shift. A few others had middle shift and were temporarily taking their places. There were five registers up front, two became free, one was already empty, and the last two teenagers only had two more hours. His first day 'in charge' was going to be a tough one.

Duo answered immediately: "Me and Milliardo on front counter, Heero on the first grill and somebody else on second, Trowa definitely needs to get his ass to back cash, Quatre can really only do present window- no offense Cat- and it is absolutely crucial Wufei is on table making them burgers or else we're all going to die today."

"Don't be so dramatic. Surely you can deal with your not-so-favorite positions today."

"Treize!" Milliardo threw an accusatory finger at Dekim, now in the back office talking to Noin and Sally. Sally was counting money. "He hates us. We hate him and he knows it. And he has just given us all our _worst_ positions. I HATE GRILL! Don't make me do grill!"

Treize found their distraught faces amusing, but it was obvious by the fact not even the serious-seeming Wufei was moving to his station that this was a serious issue, especially on Free Friday.

"Okay, I'll talk to him. Just for you guys, and especially you," he said to Milliardo, giving him a wink and treasuring his face become stone.

_So cute._

Dekim had finished letting people off the floor (i.e. out of the workplace) and saw his small band of recalcitrant teenagers. "What's going on? Why aren't you in position?"

"It seems they find those positions illogical for the upcoming evening," explained Treize, voice as smooth as silk. Dekim was a bit spellbound. "There seems to be more efficient tasks for them to do."

"Oh, Duo and Mr. Peacecraft lazing around on front counter and such? I think not. This is a perfect opportunity to prove yourself to me, Mr. Kushrenada. Make this work, and I shall be most impressed." He gave the boys a hard look. "Get to your places now! Stop hounding Mr. Kushrenada."

They scattered to their separate spots, their footsteps sticking in invisible mud.

Milliardo was thinking of a thousand different ways Dekim could die, and not including old age or other natural causes or anything, when Duo passed him the hated little hair tie. Putting his hair in a bun would be a wasted effort when he would be moving his head around the place over here in grill. Plus, it would get too hot under his hat with it on. So a ponytail it was.

He could swear on his grandmother's grave that Treize was staring at him, but he was a bit too angry- but not nervous, of course not nervous- to turn back and return it.

Duo tried to shake off Heero's stare. His look could make stone sweat, and so was Duo, with no fault to the grill. He could feel it getter harsher, more concentrated, like a beam of sunlight. The feeling crawled up to his neck, but it wasn't entirely a bad feeling; it was great to be the sole object of his attention for once.

It was no mystery that Duo liked Heero since tenth grade, when they had paired together for basketball in physical education. Heero had asked the couch (He called her miss, though) for a new partner, believing Duo was a girl, and not wanting to go two on two with a female partner. Unfortunately for him, Duo was male, and the couch was an avid feminist, and he was sentenced to running the entire period of their first day in gym (the previous months were spent learning health).

Duo totally liked his form, and Heero wasn't a bad runner either.

He invited him, with Trowa and Milliardo, to drinks at a local café, and Duo had asked him what made him think that he was a girl. Heero told him he was gorgeous, and he said it in such a way that made it evident that the fact should have been evident to everyone else. They have hung out ever since. Duo didn't know how Heero felt in return, but nobody liked to risk love anyway.

The same was true for Trowa (and Quatre and Heero, for that matter). While he suffered the irritated voices of customers, except most of the teenagers, who endured Dekim's wrath whenever he was on a people-oriented position, often the boy would look back at Quatre slowly taking orders and pausing to take in and count money. Quatre could multiply three-digit numbers by other three-digit numbers, but the act of pressing a Quarter Pounder with cheese and counting three seventy-five simultaneously drove him into a frenzy. Trowa couldn't help but think that was adorable.

It was just so when he arrived in the middle of sophomore year, bowing as he introduced himself, per request the excited English teacher. New student intros were so unpopular these days; it was more efficient for the student to sit in the back of the class and be hounded for the next few months or so. And he wore a scarf. What the hell was a scarf?

The only other person who wore one, a knitted one from his sister, was Trowa Barton. Quatre had asked him if it was crotchet, and Trowa was surprised that, for once, someone hadn't asked if it was knitted. Quatre then asked if he did crotchet and if he could teach him. Of course, Trowa didn't crotchet, but he knew how. So during study hall the next period he showed Quatre how to crotchet. The next week, Quatre had made a black hat just for him. He planned to wear the faded thing each winter.

He hadn't planned on getting close to Quatre. It was Duo's fault. His friend had a new best friend in Heero. But as soon as Quatre started making him recipes and kicking ass during the wrestling seminars in March, he slowly started to admire the small blond. Plus, Quatre was really the one that people picked on physically; they knew he wouldn't fight back. And it was nice to use his 'emo glare' under his bangs to scare people off.

Unluckily, this wasn't working on the customers taking their precious time ordering something they probably already knew existed.

This middle-aged woman with a protruding stomach with her husband knew damn well she didn't want a salad.

"The salads are so expensive," she murmured. "I think I'll get a double cheeseburger."

_You __**know**__ you want a double cheeseburger. _"Will that be a meal?"

"Does it come with fries and a drink?"

_WHAT THE FUCK! YES, IT COMES WITH THEM, CAN'T YOU READ?! WHAT ELSE IS A FUCKING MEAL?!_

"Yes, ma'am."

"So, will that be extra? Or does it cost just like a sandwich?"

In clipped tones, Trowa answered, "Sandwich, two eighty-nine. Meal, three forty-five."

"So it is extra?"

"YES, ma'am. It is extra. Would you like a meal?"

"Can I have onion rings instead of fries?"

Treize was watching this progression of feelings for about an hour before he knew that if this store stayed like it was for just one more minute, they will all get torched by an angry mob, or he'll be torched by his crew. The extra workers were feeling the pressure of the second shift arrivals doing so poorly in their positions. None of them could handle the demands of table; they were actually banking on Wufei, only to be horribly disappointed. They stared at the new manager with longing eyes.

_HELP US._

And so Treize passed the runner for drive-thru duty to Noin, who was on fries, and thought he was an absolute lecher. He confronted Dekim again in his office and said simply, "I'm changing their positions. This is becoming a disaster."

"Hey! I gave a hundred dollar bill!" shouteda new voice.

"What the hell? What is it now?" Treize walked the short steps to back cash, where Quatre was frantically trying to calm down a customer. He gazed up with bright blue eyes almost watering; Treize wanted to bite him.

"The customer says I got a large bill, but I'm sure I only got a twenty. There's no hundred dollar bill in my register," Quatre said, his voice hiccupping a little. There was someone yelling their orders over and over into his headset, but he couldn't concentrate with the man in the window saying that he needed more change.

Suddenly, there was a shift in the store. It was still noisy, angry, tense, but there was a definite structure that had obstructed the environment, like an argument in a loud classroom. Somehow, the argument will be singled out. And that just was what seemed to be happening up front. Someone was yelling at Wufei. Duo and Milliardo, sweating and their gorgeous hair absolute messes, were from the grills. No one was where they were supposed to be. Heero was ignoring his customer in window, sitting beneath the motion sensor bar, pouting and glaring at nothing in particular. The time was reaching four hundred seconds.

"Does everyone want to be fired? Get this fixed, Treize!" Dekim ordered, and it was in this tone that Treize realized that he was enjoying this, making him frustrated. Too bad for him that the only thing that frustrated him was sexual and romantic tension. Nothing else mattered in the world.

"I'm going to change their positions, Mr. Barton. This is _my_ floor. I'm in charge of position, and, anyway…" He truly hated playing this card, but it was the only way to get to Dekim. "…My father knows the region's manager. I can get you fired pretty quickly."

"Fucking criminal delinquent," Dekim hissed, but Treize was in the mode and ready to diffuse all the problems completely. He pulled Quatre from window, told one of the kids on table to get on grill, and traded Quatre with Heero, who he sent to grill. Quatre, actually face to face with a customer who was going to know him for more than ten seconds, smiled brilliantly, calming the irate woman who had been sitting there for at least half an hour, but was really only there for eight minutes. He gave her a bunch of free stuff and sent her on her way.

Tea was back. Milliardo explained the man to Treize and the man didn't even try to reason with the dude, who again looked like he was high on something. Instead, he went outside, waving. No one knew what he was doing until policemen began walking towards them. Some of the teenagers scattered, some cars even left, but Tea stood his ground. Even against the two much bigger officers, he issued his case, some shit about his pies being too cold or something and how the Gook packing his meal gave him cold food on purpose. Needless to say, he didn't receive any hot pies.

He got Trowa, who saw Quatre in present window and began begging for the back cash position, to back cash. Milliardo and Duo immediately gravitated to the front registers. Immediately, the tension began to loosen, just after Trowa threatened Hundred-dollar with the police and sent him driving off without his food.

Wufei stood there, looked back over his shoulder at Dekim, and then back at Treize. The old man was giving Treize angry looks, but the German was easy at ignoring him. He had loosened his tie and had no nametag and no belt, but he seemed more in control than Dekim ever was. His dominating figure quieted the more rambunctious patrons, especially the women. The place was finally calm as everyone fell in the easy rhythm. Wufei, with a short raise of an eyebrow from Treize, took his place comfortably at table. He read the meals up from the screen and began making burgers; and it was habit in letting the other two people place buns and meat. It was so easy. There was so much stress with those people, and then Tea! It was needlessly complicated.

"I wonder why Dekim yearned to make everything so needlessly complicated?" spoke Treize, right next to his elbow. Wufei took a whiff of something heavenly, and it wasn't fast food. There was a hint of fruit and some thrilling wood. Looking up, he knew that it was Treize's cologne.

And so, with Wufei's heart beating brilliantly in his chest, Treize trapped himself in another young man without even capturing his first.


End file.
